Skip to main content

Things you DON'T want to do on Sunday morning

- Get up for early church (Unless you are Eric and you're just not right in the head)

- Shovel snow

- Dishes

- Fast (OK come on, really? You like fasting?)

- Wake up from a deep sleep to the sound of Eric's dad calling for help.

Only one of these is something I did today...the least pleasant on the list I'm sorry to say. Before you panic, the good news is that he is stable and resting.

Eric's dad starting feeling unwell at about 4:30 am. At about 5 he was able to shuffle over to the living room and call up the stairs for help (we got him a cell phone for Christmas but he didn't think to use it or forgot about it, but a tutorial on emergency procedure is going to happen after he gets home - that or an intercom is going in!), he recognized the signs of a heart attack - nausea, sweating, severe pain in the middle of his chest - and he took an aspirin right away. The EMTS were here within 10 minutes.

At the hospital they took him in for surgery pretty quickly. The front artery is completely blocked and the rear descending artery is 75% blocked. The supporting arteries have partial blockage and the main vein in his left leg was blocked. They wanted to open up the front artery but were not able to because it was so hardened with calcium. They were able to open up the vein in his leg to help out. The right front muscle in his heart might be dead, due to lack of blood flow for a long time. They think it may have been blocked for a long time. They are going to give him a couple of days to rest in the hospital and then they will do a heart viability test. If the muscle is still viable in the front, they will do bypass surgery. If it is no longer viable they will only be able to treat him with medication and that leaves him very vunerable to future heart attacks.

Needless to say, we're kinda feeling helpless and worried right now. It was most scary this morning, of course, and we feel confident that he is in good hands at the hospital. You can help by hugging each other and thinking good thoughts.

I am sure you all remember my post a while back about making dinner for Poppa. (You're avid readers, you read every. single. post. twice., so I'm confident you know what I'm talking about.) Well, my sister suggested that I look at cooking for Dad as a service opportunity. That mode of thinking has completely changed how I feel about the whole situation. He still doesn't eat much of what I make so I try to make noodles or something I know he will like with every meal. If I didn't make something he'll eat, I offer to make him soup or chicken pot pie or the like. I still get rejected, I still feel bad sometimes, but I don't get upset anymore. I offer him my service and if he takes it, score 1 for the day. While Eric and Scott (his brother) were at the hospital waiting for updates and the children were upstairs asleep, I was looking around the house thinking how grateful I am that Dad is here with us. Sometimes it is a trial, sometimes I complain, sometimes he complains, but there are the little things that make it ultimately joyful. For example, sitting on the kitchen island is a package of sunflower seeds. Just the other day Poppa talked Eric into a trip to 7-11 to stock up on goodies for the weekend. Poppa brought me back a package of salty, sunflower goodness. Because he likes me. Just not my cooking.

Maybe it takes big things like heart attacks to shock us into awareness sometimes, but I hope that in the future I'll notice more little things. I hope I'll be fortified with goodness for the trials. And I hope you will too.

Comments

Pam said…
Sorry to hear of your father-in-laws health scare. Let me know how if they is more we can do to help i.e babysitting or meals brought in. I sent Emma to school today because the thought of being cooped up in the home with ALL of the children was more than I could bear. So if you do need a babysitter I will come to your home okay. Is that cheap of me?
Heather said…
I hope Poppa gets feeling better! Enjoy your new perspective.
AMS said…
Definately not something I would want to wake up to on a Sunday morning (or any morning)! Hope all turns out well and maybe in the end, with a new outlook on life, he'll appreciate your cooking a bit more, too.

Popular posts from this blog

Dear Carly,

I assume that one day you will come to me wanting to know who you are, where you came from, where your other family is and why they gave you to us.  I offer you little bits of information already, but certainly not crumbs enough to satisfy the appetite.  Perhaps it won't matter to you.  I am assuming a lot, already, about how adoption will impact your life.

People often wonder why adoptive parents are hurt when their children seek out biological roots.  I have the answer, and it's very simple.  Adoption - at its core - makes us question the legality, authority, voracity, and validity of parenthood.  For most adoptive parents, first you must come to terms with an issue that strikes at the foundations of mortality: fertility.  From birth, most of us are driven to form families.  First we are nestlings, nurtured and weened and eventually taught to fly.  Then we are nest-builders, filling our lives with the stuff necessary to drive life forward.  Knowledge, safety, money, a sturdy …

On being away from home and turning sixteen: a letter to my son

Dear Josh,

I missed your sixteenth birthday.  I'm sure you recall - or maybe it wasn't so bad because you spent the whole day with your friend watching movies.  Godzilla and Guardians of the Galaxy, you've said.  It's no surprise to me that Godzilla was your favorite of the two.  That atomic green monster holds a special place in your heart.

It was very difficult for me to be away from you when you crossed this threshold in your life.  I remember turning sixteen, being sixteen, and wondering when I would feel like I was actually sixteen.  When I was sixteen, I went and found my first job, I started driving myself around, and I pretty much felt like I was in the wrong skin.  I'm only now, at 37, beginning to feel in the right skin.  Or at least comfortable with the skin I'm in.  But you - well, you don't seem to have a problem being you.  I can't explain how very happy that makes me feel, how very reassured.  Because it can be really hard not to like you…

Dear Carly (on your 9th birthday),

I can't remember what it is like to turn nine years old.  From watching you turn nine, it must have been difficult because it seems like everything is either really, really greator really, really bad.  Some days I think I might get whiplash from the mood swings (and you're not a teenager yet!).   But overall, I think nine must also be really wonderful.  You seem to be full of joy, even moments after being full of woe.  It's as if the joy just pushes the other stuff out.  It practically oozes from your pores.  More than that, on the days you choose to be happy, the whole world sings with you.  People are infected by it, drawn in to your sweet smile and shining eyes.  Attracted like bugs to a light.  You shine, dear little diva, so brightly sometimes it's blinding.

We just spent three weeks together in California, and I must have complained too much about your behavior because your dad believes we are oil and water right now.  I'd prefer to see us as oil and vinegar …